Lord General Minor 999983- Helbourg stood in front of the holo-projector, masked, as were all men of the Korps, and surveyed the tactical situation. The portable holotable stood at the center of the makeshift headquarters his men had established in an old and now derelict shrine to the Emperor-as-Omnissiah, the structure an amalgam of brutal steel and gothic stonework, and cleaned and shinning now that the temple had been diligently restored by the techpriests who had been attached to his regiment. Even now, in the backroom of the shrine, incense and motor oil were being burned in supplication to the Emperor-as-Omnissiah, to both bless the stratagems and machines of the faithful, while cursing the machines of the enemy to rust and malfunction.
The table projected a green holo-light, on the right side of which, highlighted in a dark sea blue, was an active display of his force, while on the left, shaded a deep blood red was an altogether less comprehensive overview of the enemy's strength. While the general waited for the last of his officers and other notables to arrive at the now increasingly cramped chapel, he again surveyed the force available to him.
He had at his command three full-strength infantry regiments, a full 30 thousand men, alongside seventeen hundred crew in the armored regiment to man his one hundred and twenty-eight tanks, and another three thousand five hundred distributed across his artillery park, both crewing the guns and operating as logistical support. Aside from that he also had his special reserve of engineers, grenadiers, Death Riders, and the specialists his task force had been assigned, though he was loath to throw away his surprise elements during the first, opening gambit.
Arrayed against him was the might of this dump of an Agriworld, an enemy that he knew had the advantage in both logistical support and knowledge of the terrain, if the broken ground and packed alleyways of a hive could be called as such. At best guess from what fragmentary administratum reports and within the records and surveillance of the hive that his Tech priests had been able to scrounge, the enemy had on standby roughly a hundred and fifty thousand infantry, as well as a small compliment of around one hundred and fifty tanks of nonstandard local manufacture, and access to some number of elite stormtrooper equivalent troops. While their artillery strength was still unknown, it was likely that given the recent Tarellian raid, much of whatever artillery the hive may have possessed was either in static emplacements or neutralized by the xenos marauders. Of course, the governor's full military strength was far greater than what was presented, but deploying those reserve forces and garrisoning units within the depths of a hive would take time. Time, he did not intend to let the traitors have.
It was a shame, thought the general, that there had to be any fighting on this world at all. His orders, after all, were to merely garrison this world and to prepare barracks for the millions of guardsmen that would be using this world as a staging point. But his men had caught infiltrator forces, equipped in the livery of the planet's stormtrooper elite, arrogantly still using their standard equipment, though admittedly all the unit markings and insignia had been diligently filled off the gear. He may have been willing to dismiss this as an attack unrelated to the governor, but some of those infiltrators had been taken alive for interrogation.
He always made sure to oversee interrogations himself. From them he had heard little but at the same time enough. The governor had ordered an attack on them, labeling them as "occupiers" and lackeys of an uncaring Imperium.
"Disgusting" the general whispered quietly into his mask. "What was that, sir?" asked one of his aids. "Nothing" replied the general in the course manner of his people.
"Now, you are here for your orders and the disposition of the enemy," the general said as he turned to address the rest of the officers and other notables who had filled into the now full chapel, each, in turn examining the holotable and absorbing the information that it held about the enemy.
Many of them were attired similar to himself, large greatcoats and respirator units wrapped around their wastes, while synth-leather masks and tinted glass eye lenses swathed faces hardly more emotive than the masks they showed to the world. However, amongst them also stood foreign uniforms and attire, though many of these he knew personally to be as stalwart and loyal as many of his own guardsmen.
In the main, the peaked hats and midnight black greatcoats of the commissariat occupied any space not taken up by a Korpsman officer or one of his aids, whilst a smattering of dark purple and red robes denoted the presence of the high-ranking techpriests that had accompanied his force. Alongside them, thought making up only a small minority, were the white robbed preachers and battle-deacons that had been seconded to his force for "moral support", though in the general's own private opinion their "morale support" would be unnecessary for the upcoming campaign, though he conceded that their flamers and two handed Eviscerator chainswords would be of much greater worth.
"Our orders here were simple, to begin garrisoning this planet for the upcoming crusade force, and to reinforce it against further xenos incursion. It is clear that our orders have fallen short here. It is not any xenos that we fight this day, but traitors, who cloak their actions in darkness and deceit. This planet has turned traitor, alongside its PDF forces, who even now prepare an assault."
"Furthermore, our perimeter forces have already engaged teams of infiltrators and saboteurs, many of which were captured thanks to the deployment of one of Commissar Ortis' weapons."
At the mention of his name, the large commissar nodded his head in satisfaction, pleased to put his weapons to use so early into the developing conflict.
"So, this is now our situation, we are surrounded, outnumbered, but we are not outmatched. Our plan is simple, but will require coordination and discipline, is that understood?"
At this the masked heads of the officers all nodded in agreement, the general knew that coordination and discipline were the Death Korp's specialties and so he decided to play to those strengths.
With that, the general and his officers set to planning and prepared a battle plan to wipe out the traitors in detail.
The shells came whistling in high above the heads of Sergeant Capran and his squad of twelve, hunkered down as they were along with the rest of the thirteenth PDF rifles behind the containment line of sandbags and earthworks they had built to hem in the occupiers. Clearly, the sergeant thought with a grim smile, it hadn't gone as anticipated.
In the first few days of the containment, it was hoped that the Imperials would surrender, they were outnumbered a thousand to one by the PDF and militia forces, nearly surrounded by twenty whole regiments and 2 armored support columns, cut off from supply and in the middle of hostile territory. No sane commander would fight under these conditions.
The booming explosion of an artillery piece being hit told him how much sanity these invaders possessed. The Cenian PDF had never been prodigiously blessed with guns and gunnery experience, and now the well-aimed shells of the enemy whittled those numbers down even further.
Sergeant Capran had seen his fair share of war, even in a backwater world such as this. The Calonian Uprising, the Forzar insurrection, and of course the Talerian raid that had devastated much of the outer lying settlements. He had never been under a bombardment like this.
The men of his squad were also suffering, he could tell but most knew how to keep a tough face in front of their comrades. Some chatted casually, pointedly ignoring the rain of shells slamming their backline positions, others played cards or rolled dice, while a few more prayed for the Emperor's protection or grasped prayer beads in trembling fingers. Many of these were the rookie members of his squad, assigned to him just before the attack to round out his numbers.
The final two members, however, were anything but rookies and would come in useful when the fighting started in earnest. Heavy weapons troopers Diala Trand and Marak Firkster were sat close together behind the barricade, the lithe woman juxtaposed with her broader male comrade. Both of them were sat huddled over their Achillan Mark III pattern Missile launcher like protective parents, fussing over the mechanism with oil clothes and sanctified waxes to ensure no dirt would foul the barrel.
Diala was one of the best shots he'd seen with a launcher, and he personally saw her score a kill shot on a Tarellian Bark tank from over two hundred meters out, just at the launcher's maximum range. Marak was hardly less impressive, the burly trooper able to haul eight missiles when the standard allotment for a launcher was six. Capran was sure that the extra ammo would come in handy today.
"Orders have just come through sergeant!" yelled his voxman, corporal Vortz over the sounds of the ongoing barrage. "The colonel is ordering a staggered advance away from the artillery, we're to move out in three, sergeant!"
"What the Fek is the colonel playing at sergeant!" cried another of his men, private Galangan, his dark skin and exotic name marking him out as one of the Asangali islanders that inhabited the warm southern seas that covered most of Cena Primaris' southern hemisphere. He was another of the new recruits Capran had foisted upon him, and he was clearly shaken by the bombardment.
"If we go out there in all of this, we'll be torn into pieces, I don't know about you sergeant, but I don't look forward to becoming Mirlok bait out there" Galangan continued.
"I do not know what a Mirlok is, Private Galangan, but look at our situation this way. We will advance for two reasons, the first is that with our artillery knocked out or out of range the only thing that we can do here is be shot to pieces. By advancing and closing range with the enemy, we will be too close to the enemy's infantry to risk them from opening fire on us. Is that understood?"
"Yes sergeant, and the second reason?"
"Second reason?" inquired the sergeant. "Yes sergeant, you said there was a second reason we were going to advance," asked the clearly shaken private.
"Ah yes thanks for reminding me Private Galangan, we advance because we have been ordered to. Do you know what happens when a soldier in His eminence the Governor's Planetary Defense force disobeys an order Private? asked the hard-bitten Sergeant.
Galangan shook his head. "They are shot. Is that understood?"
"Yes sergeant, very much so sergeant."
"Good" replied the Sergeant, "and that goes for all of you, don't let me catch any laggards out there when we charge, or by the Emperor, you will not live to regret that mistake."
A chorus of "Yes sergeants" and "Aye sirs" graced him, just as he heard the whistle blow, the signal indicating the attack had been finally launched.
"Up, up and at them now" the sergeant stated, speaking loudly to his men but not shouting and rose before his men had even begun. With a gesture of his revving chainsword to emphasize his order, he vaulted over the barricade, urging his men to advance.
Quickly, chastened by the Sergeant's words and the whine of his chainsword, the squad advanced, their dark grey flak armor and under coats helping them blend into the half light of the hive block as the squad made sure to spread out as other squads joined the charge, one squad flanking them ahead and to the right, while another fell behind and slightly to the left as they advanced, the hive sprawl and shanty towns mercifully being mostly cleared before their advance, giving them enough space to advance in their staggered line.
"Remember, no sprinting, advance at a jog, your no use to me if you reach the enemy so tired out that you can't properly pull a trigger."
"Yes Sergeant" the squad replied, and gratefully, Sergeant Capran could see that Galangan was near the front of the pack, almost leading the charge of the squad while Sergeant Capran himself held back a little, the canny veteran knowing that if he were too far ahead, he wouldn't be able to properly observe his squad, and the tactical situation as a whole.
As his squad continued their jogging advance, and were pleased to discover that, much as the sergeant had predicted, the artillery fire had slackened considerably, only a spare shell or two landing down amongst the advancing infantry, thought where these shells did hit, whole fire teams were blown apart in splashes of gore and red tainted shrapnel, the powerful shells gouging wholes into the metal and plascrete floor of the hive.
As the squad continued its advance, for almost a hundred meters before they caught sight of the enemy, though by now the frantic jog that had characterized the first half of the advance had slowed to a brisk walking pace, as the Sergeants and other NCOs chastened to keep their men fresh for the upcoming firefight.
First contact came as a bright red lasbeam came out of the gloom, spearing through the head of a hapless lasmen, blowing through the flak cover of his helmet to turn his brain into cinders as his now headless corpse hit the hive street.
Across the staggered line of advance Sergeant Capran heard the cry of "Sniper, get down and to cover," which he soon repeated, thought with a seasoned calm in his voice absent from the other cries of less experienced officers.
"Make for that house over there, use it as cover and find the sniper nest" the Sergeant said as he pointed towards a crumbling metal and plascrete townhouse, half exploded from shell fire and sapper teams.
The Sergeant advanced at a trot, shoulders hunched to make him less of a target, but with his eyes up, scanning the few houses and shanty structures that could house a sniper. As he reached the rubble and set himself down into cover, he did a quick head count. All twelve members of his squad had made it, alongside five other troopers he didn't recognize.
"You five, what are your names, ranks and who's in charge" Sergeant Capran asked, his earlier irritability having vanished in the face of actual combat, as he knew well that a calm head and clear orders did much more to reassure men in a fire fight than the barked orders and screamed commands of less comported officers.
The five strangers glanced around at each other, sitting in their own semi-circle slightly apart from Capran's squad, glancing around at each other before one, whose single downward facing chevron on his flak armor's right shoulder plate denoted him as a corporal.
"I'm Corporal Rachter sergeant, and these are Flicks, Bandragor, Shutter, and Deng. We're from squad Flachter 23 Hiver Rifle Corps. Who are you?" the now identified corporal Rachter asked.
"I'm Sergeant Capran and this is my squad, thirteenth PDF rifles and for the duration of this you're with me, understood? And you will address me as sergeant, do you see any officer pins here?"
"Yes sergeant, we're glad to join up if it means killing occupiers!"
"That's the spirit" Capran said as he clapped Rachter's shoulder, the armored flak plate there sounding a dull clang as he patted it.
"Now did anyone spot where that sniper was shooting from?"
"I saw it, just down at that building there, the one with the Aquilla hanging from it sergeant. I saw a flash from the upper floor just as we reached cover." Turning to see who spoke, he saw that it was Galangan, the private clearly looking to impress after his earlier show of hesitance.
"Good, but any halfway decent sniper knows to change his nest after a few shots, still that gives us an area to work with, are there any other buildings there that could be used as cover?"
"There're two more buildings with second stories still standing, one on the left and one on the right of it. I think the sniper could probably have moved between them if he still wants an elevated vantage point, but I can't see much more without leaving cover."
"I see it too sergeant" the newly arrived corporal added, "I think I see a glint in the building to the left, but I can't be sure if its anything, might just be broken glass."
"No, you're onto something. Vortz, get on the vox and call up company command, tell them we'll send a rocket through the building to the left, ask them to work their way through the others in case we miss him."
"Yes sergeant, I'll call up the captain and let him know," said Corporal Vortz, already reaching out to grab the vox horn.
"Right, while Vortz, chatters we've got work to do, Trand, Firckster, get your tube up here, we've got demolition work to do."
1436 breathed in a deep breath and then held it, as the scope of his Long-Las fell onto the head of yet another heretic trying to advance on his position. In front of him, he knew, along the entire front snipers like him had been placed, barely twenty in total, to try and harass the enemy as he advanced.
Others might have thought this to be a suicide mission or perverse punishment inflicted on him and his brothers by a callous officer. 1436 did not think this, could not think this, all thoughts of disobedience or dissatisfaction with superior officers having been beaten out of him in his youth, and even the thought of such sinful contemplation would have earned him an execution back on Krieg.
And yet sedition was the last thing on 1436's mind as he scanned the ranks of advancing troops for quarry. He could see a multitude of privates and corporals through his scope, huddled around whatever small patches of cover they could find, sure that mere brick and plascrete would be enough to stave off the Emperor's judgment from scouring their traitorous souls.
Crouched as he was behind a scrap metal desk, peering out into the gloomy half-light between a half-shattered window, he had an unobstructed view of the advancing enemy, cautiously leaping from cover to cover as they advanced.
He briefly considered putting a bolt through one of them to try and suppress the rest, but quickly discarded the idea. He had worked hard to find this spot, and exposing his position now to kill a mere private would be wasteful, and the Death Korps never trained men to be wasteful.
Moving his scope further on he began to pick up more promising targets, sergeants in the main, ordering around up strength squads of what looked like new recruits. Kill one of them and the whole squad may run, neutralizing twelve enemies for the price of one shot. Not bad, but 1436 knew that he could do better.
And then he found it. The telltale glint of finely polished gunmetal giving away the position of the missile launcher pointed just towards his position, the team of two, one man and one woman were lining up a shot on his position. That was his mark.
As he prepared to fire, he began the short prayer of vengeance.
Master of Mankind, see this unworthy vessel
He had sighted down the scope, the reticule falling right on the target's heart.
Grant it the strength to smite Your foes, to earn Your forgiveness, Ave Imperator
He pulled the trigger and the gun bucked in his hand, the overpowered shot from the long-las racing across the confines of the hive to strike his target in the chest, punching through the flak plate and blowing a fist-sized hole through the heavy weapons' trooper's torso.
A painless death and better than a heretic deserves. And just as he switched aim to the next member of the weapons team, his world caught fire.
Sergeant Capran watched on as his heavy weapons team went to work, Trand's deadeye shooting sending a rocket straight through the second-story window of the central building. The frag missile passed clear through the smashed second-story window, blowing away the remains of the top floor, leaving only a stump where the shanty must have stood. Despite being a fragmentation missile, designed for cutting down infantry and demolishing light vehicles, the shabbily built shanty of corrugated metal and scavenged materials didn't stand a chance, the remains being strewn throughout the battlefield.
To his right, another heavy weapon team, detached to this section of the front by the thirteenth's colonel opened fire from a drainage ditch they were taking cover in, racking their target building with heavy bolter fire, the explosive shells shredding the light materials of the house just as surely as their missile did to the central home.
However, their right was conspicuously silent, and looking over Capran could see why. The right was decimated, the cart that they were taking cover behind had been flipped onto its side and blasted into pieces the charred and bloody remains of the squad strewn about the street, the few maimed survivors of the twelve-man team fleeing back the way they had come, stumbling, and clutching at bleeding ears and broken, twisted limbs.
A less experienced soldier might have thought they were hit by artillery fire, but Capran had seen this before and knew what had happened. Either some fool had aimed the launcher too low when firing it, clipping the cart in the process, or it was detonated by the enemy.
Seeing as how most heavy weapons troopers weren't chosen for their idiocy, Capran guessed it was the work of the enemy, a well-timed shot cutting down the gunner just as he depressed the trigger, sending the missile right into their cover, and blowing away the rest of his squad with him.
"Vortz, hail company command, tell them that we've stopped up two of the sniper's mouse holes and are moving in on the third, and tell them what happened to those poor bastards on the left, we need another squad to cover our flank, or our advance is compromised. You got all that corporal?"
"Yes sergeant, I'll be on the horn with command, should I request armored support?"
"Good thinking Vortz, if we have moving cover up here, we can flush these bastards twice as fast."
"Sergeant, the other buildings still standing, want me to send another round through her?" Trand asked as she cradled her launcher, clearly eager to have another go at the buildings.
"How many rounds you got left for that thing?" Capran asked, knowing that a missile launcher was much harder to supply than their lasguns, and that ammunition would be needed if they encountered any serious bunkers or forts.
"Seven, four frag and three krak" came Trand's reply.
"Yeah, that's what I thought, save the munitions, this is laswork"
"Alright men, time to earn your pay, our target is the last of the standing buildings second story, spread out and open up on it. Focus on windows and weak points in the material. Corporal Rachter?"
"Yes, sergeant?"
"Take your five around the left, hug our cover as best you can, we'll open up on them from here, I want you to hold fire until we've started, see if you can find any movement and open up on it. If this sniper is still alive after the fireworks, I want him smoked out and gunned down, understood?"
"Aye sergeant we'll see it done," Corporal Rachter said as he turned to direct his squad mates down towards the edge of their cover.
"Sergeant, I've got word from command, our reinforcements are coming and then some. A general advance across the line in coming up with the armor, five whole regiments coming to support ours in flushing out their skirmishers, seems like whoever's in charge of operations doesn't want to take any chances with this one!"
The sergeant turned to his vox man and flashed him a rare grin, "Lets give them something to look at when they get here ey? Everyone in position?"
"Yes sergeant." his squad cried, "Open fire!"
1436 came too slowly as he tried to rise unsteadily from the sprawl he had been thrown into. Though his building hadn't been the one hit by the missile attack, the blast had carried over and knocked him down onto the floor of the house he had been taking cover in.
A heavy pain in his right foot made him look down at his lower half from his half-lying half-sitting position, he had to suppress a groan when he saw the damage. The desk he had been crouching behind had been toppled in the blast, and had landed heavily on his booted foot, pinning it to the floor and jarring the appendage to the bone.
To make matters worse, he could the distinct, whip-crack noise of ionized air, followed by a dull thud as lasbeams burned into metal and melted plascrete. Soon, he knew, this ruined home would become his tomb, either crushed under the weight of falling rubble, or shot to death by the blazing las beams which even now tried to tear him apart. Worse than that he could hear the throaty roar of engines, and the rhythm of men marching in unison. Enemy reinforcements were upon them.
But despite this, he wasn't afraid. He was a Korpsmen, and he knew that his duty, and his shame compelled him to try and be of use to the Imperium, even here on this most minor of fronts, and even now in his final moments.
Reaching up to activate his helmet-mounted vox bead, he sent out his last message to his superiors, determined that even as he died, he would provide what intelligence he could.
"Captain, I am pinned in cover and taking fire, I suspect my death is imminent. I can hear engines; I suspect their reinforcements have arrived" 1436 said, giving his last clipped report to his superiors before he died.
Unexpectedly, he heard a voice in his ear, his superior unexpectedly replying to his last report with a message of his own.
"Understood Korpsman, earn His forgiveness" the officer replied, giving the traditional Krieg benediction to one whose life was soon to end.
With nothing left to do, 1436 lay still and began to pray.
Holy Emperor, Master of Man
The thudding of las fire increased, pounding against the walls of his redoubt like rain.
See me now for who I am
The thunder of engines was louder now, the grinding of tracks audible as the armor crushed whatever rubble stood in its way.
Thought sinfully led my life has been
A louder base boom now, vaguely recognizable to him as the familiar bomb of a Leman Russ battle cannon.
Make a martyr of me so that I might be seen
A loud cracking sound now, as the house he had been sheltering in finally gave way and he was pitched down to the ground floor, now crushed under the weight of the house's ceiling.
Ave Imperator
And with that, 1436 knew no more.
Lord General Minor 999983- Helbourg remained at the holotable, three hours after the assault began on his men's foothold in Hive block Borst, his men having set up isolated sniper positions and hard points in the mostly cleared suburbs that straddled the line between the two hive blocks, the snipers and sappers he had placed there, barely a hundred in all, slowing and bleeding the enemy as they advanced, right into the jaws of his trap.
He knew now from a greater flow of reports and testimonies from front-line units and from the vox traffic his tech-priests had been able to intercept, that the enemy had kept most of their armor in reserve until now, a large factor in why their advance had been so slovenly. And now that they had begun to advance in earnest, he could set his trap into motion.
"Lord General, we have received a number of reports indicating that the enemy is now fully committed. Shall I detonate?" his major and aid de camp said as he approached the holotable, a dataslate in his hands no doubt illustrating the latest updates to the battlefield.
"No, give an order to the last of the snipers we have deployed, tell them to extract. They have five standard minutes to clear the zone, is that clear?"
"Yes sir, it shall be done" the major said as he offered a crisp salute and turned on his heel to see to another of his duties.
"If you don't mind my saying Lord General, saving men from certain death isn't quite your style, why pull out the men deployed now when their continued presence will pin the enemy in place?" asked a newcomer as he sauntered up to the table.
This man wasn't dressed like the General or the major. He went unmasked, for one thing, his broad face and strong jaw appearing to be almost ghoulish in the green half-light the table emitted. His dress too was different, his great coat was mat black, unlike the field grey uniforms all his men worse, while the broad peaked cap that adorned his head denoted who the General was speaking to.
"Commissar Ortis" the general said by way of greeting, nodding his head to the discipline officer who stalked closer to the holotable.
"We are cut off here commissar, in an isolated position and without reinforcement or contact from the wider Imperium. For now, every man I have available is precious, and I would not see them sacrificed for so little, especially so early into the conflict."
"Makes sense to me General, thought I may have a way to remedy that, I'll talk to you after this filth has been crushed."
"Understood" was all the general said in response.
A few minutes passed in tense silence, occasionally broken by the soft chatter of functionaries and officers coordinating the battle and the soft chants and binaric hymns of the techpriests.
The major soon returned to give his report, that all men who could have been withdrawn, had and that most of his snipers had returned, though casualties were still heavy amongst the skirmish force, roughly thirty having fallen to enemy fire.
"Very good, Major, give the order and blow the charges, lets bury these heretics."
Capran's squad was ecstatic, the enemy was in retreat, the occasional flighting grey form of an occupier was chased away with las and heavy weapons fire. The general advance had been sounded and all across the line more than a dozen regiments of PDF, militia, and armored forces advanced as quick as they could, all thoughts of sticking to cover abandoned as the PDF, who had for hours suffered under the artillery fire and sniper attacks of the enemy, and now the men were eager for a dose of vengeance.
To his left, he saw a small knot of resistance, about five enemies in total taking cover behind a roughhewn barricade made of rubble and an old trader cart. These few held back the charge of at least four squads, the enemies accurate fire gunning down twice their number as they advanced, before an enterprising PDF soldier managed to pitch a grenade into their cover.
That should've been the end of it, but the explosion that rocked the makeshift cover of the occupiers was wrong, the heavy crumping sound of the explosion indicative of an anti-armor krak grenade, a weapon less than ideal for clearing out entrenched infantry.
Still, despite the misuse of the grenade, it did some of its work. Most of the enemy had been slain or crippled by the blast, thought two men were still up and mobile, and quickly returned fire, cutting down the grenadier who had just slain three of their comrades, as well as four more men who tried to advance in the wake of the grenade throw.
But inevitably this last pocket of resistance was brought down, the last two standing men launched off their feet when a sustained volley of autogun fire swept around their flank, raking their position with several magazines' worth of lead.
As Capran watched he couldn't help but feel uneasy. It was said that these Korpsmen never retreated, and even those that they had caught always fought to the death, and even more eerily, never made a sound, even when they were bayoneted through the guts as some of the PDF were doing just now, the act both insurance against any playing dead and retribution for the brothers and sisters that had died fighting the enemy.
It was then that he heard it. A faint booming sound followed by what sounded like ice cracking. At first, he thought it was resumed artillery fire, brought down on them to cover the enemy's withdrawal. But Capran didn't see any of the telltale explosions or clouds denoting a shell detonation.
It took him a moment to look up. And then he saw it, a blooming series of explosions racing across the ceiling, the blooming fiery explosions resembling suns impossibly set into the ceiling of the hive city.
"Run, forward now, they're bringing the hive down on us!" Capran screamed, his usually calm demeanor cracking in the face of every hiver's worst nightmare.
Not looking around to see if the others were following, Capran charged forward at a full sprint, reasoning, even through his panic, that the enemy wouldn't drop the hive down on their own positions, so the only way to safety is forward.
If Capran was to look back, though he never did, he would see a variety of actions. Some canny officers and NCOs followed Capran's reasoning and charged forward alongside him, though the charge less resembled a rapid advance and more looked like a rout towards enemy positions.
Some others dropped their weapons and instead ran in the opposite directions, nominally towards friendly lines. The few armored assets, Leman Russes in the main joined Capran's desperate charge, battening down hatches and gunning their engines forward as they advanced, grinding both rubble and those men to witless with panic to jump aside.
Some others did not even move as their doom came down to meet them, struck dumb as the roof hurtled down towards them. Some of these stupidly even fired their weapons up towards the avalanche of falling plascrete and hive sheeting that raced down towards them, not being able to think of anything else to do.
Capran continued his charge forward to safety, vaulting over obstacles and body-checking those whoever was in his way who refused to move. Many soldiers Capran vaguely noticed in the small, detached part of his brain that had not been tainted by his panic, the many, many men who had fallen and were even now being trampled to death under the booted feet of their comrades as they raced forward or backward to wherever they thought they could find safety.
Many other soldiers were cut down by falling debris, the hardened metal and plascrete rubble crushing or impaling those unfortunates who were struck. On one hairy occasion Capran was himself pushed aside by the bull rush of someone who came out behind him, the shove inadvertently saving him as the position he would have occupied was crushed by a falling clump of plascrete, alongside the trooper who had pushed him.
On and on Capran charged, all the while still clutching his chainsword and pistol tightly in panic-stricken hands, Capran being unable to unclench his hands and drop them even if they wanted to.
Eventually, just as Capran had reached the end of his endurance the rumbling explosions of the hive falling on him stopped. Leaving reverberating echoes bouncing around the hive block.
"Stop... stop its over, we outran it" Capran wheezed as he bent forward to clutch at his knees and catch his breath. "We're done now stop, we're... I think we're safe" Capran said the experience leaving the usually stoic sergeant totally shaken and spent.
"Do you think we're safe now Sergeant?" asked a voice that Capran recognized as Private Galangan.
"I think so son, I think so" Capran said, just as a lasbolt came streaking forward, spearing Galangan through the throat and nearly decapitating the private, the smile that he held on his face still there as he died.
Stumbling back Capran looked forward, and what he saw made him wish that he had been killed by the rocks. Rank upon rank of silent, gas-masked soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, heavy bayoneted rifles raised and ready to fire. The one who had shot him stood in front of his men, for the plumed helmet and raised chainsword marked him out as an officer.
Throwing his weapons away as quickly as he could Capran raised his hands and shouted, "We give up, we surrender!" he shouted, trying to maintain what little of his dignity he could in his surrender.
The world stood silent for a moment as Capran and his few remaining survivors stared down the phalanx of soldiers, the moment pregnant with pent-up emotion.
Then the masked officer lowered his sword and his men let loose with their guns, las beams spearing forward at light speed to cut down the last survivors of the thirteenth PDF rifles.
Capran was struck more than ten times, the small amount of kinetic force that each shot brought with it blasting Capran onto his back as his organs were exploded and bones smashed to flinders by the las shots.
In his last moments before the darkness claimed him Capran could only attempt a chuckle, escaped the hive collapse only to be shot to death like common hive scum, what a life.
And with that sergeant Capran, proud sergeant and veteran member of the thirteenth PDF rifles died.
Author's note: Hey everybody, sorry this took so long, but it is my longest yet, if that's any conciliation! I've tried some new things with this chapter so please let me know what you think. With exams over and summer ahead of me, I'll definitely have some more time to work through this, so expect another chapter at least by the end of the month, though hopefully sooner!